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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232082">breaking patterns</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling'>Ashling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ethan Hunt just seems really guilty all the time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tenderness, like the stuff about him constantly feeling like bad things would happen if he retired..., man needs a hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:35:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>yet another hospital room</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ethan Hunt/Luther Stickell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>breaking patterns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/gifts">simplecoffee</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hospital room was all muted grey and cream, a burst of brightness from assorted balloons and flowers in the corner, Benji's idea of a pick-me-up, and Ethan felt wrong in it. It was clean and tightly designed and made for efficiency and he felt raw and loose, like a strong wind could carry him away, or at least hurt like hell. But. He was nothing if not stubborn, Ethan was, and it wasn't like there was somewhere he'd rather be, either, and so he leaned forward in the hospital chair, with his forearms atop the railing of Luther's bed and his chin atop his arms, body throbbing dully, left shoulder throbbing the loudest. He felt more bruise than man, and it wasn't enough. He kept having to dig his fingers into his bicep to keep himself awake.</p><p>Time clumped up in mysterious ways. Sometimes he looked at the clock and it had only been a minute; other times he looked at the clock and it had been twenty. It fell away, though, at a croak, and then Ethan was blinking out of vague grey oblivion and Luther was looking at him as calmly as ever. Anyone else, and Ethan would've said it was pure painkillers, that gentle smile, but not with Luther. The man had run out of fucks to give somewhere back in '93. One of the many reasons Ethan loved him. He felt himself smiling in return.</p><p>"Why'm I here?" said Luther. And just like that, it was over.</p><p>"You got—" Ethan was halfway out of his chair, didn't know why. "You got shot, right leg, upper thigh. Shattered your femur, it's—" He was half-drunk with sleeplessness, but he still had enough sense to keep himself from saying <em>it's a fucking mess.</em> "You'll be all right, though. It's a good hospital." He couldn't think what hospital it was; he just vaguely remembered Ilsa telling him, and feeling reassured. He couldn't think of what country they were in. He knew they were in Europe, anyway. "Does it—" </p><p>And Luther's dark eyes, knowing and gentle, and the both of them knowing what he was gonna say, and Ethan saying it anyways. So many echoes, and he couldn't help it any more than he could help smiling just seconds earlier. "I'm sorry.  I should have known it was an ambush, I—"</p><p>"Ah, c'mon, Ethan, not again. Not this again." A little disappointment in Luther's voice, but what did he expect?</p><p>"Yes, this again. I—"</p><p>"Nah." Luther said it quiet, but he said it with weight, with finality. A command, not an argument. "I'm the one got shot this time, so you listen to me, yeah?"</p><p>Ethan's jaw went tight. Somehow he had gotten to his feet, and he was staring at the sheets of the bed, all bleached white, and he was clutching the bed railing like it was gonna save him from something. </p><p>"You gonna look at me? Or." </p><p>Biting down hard on one last <em>sorry, </em>Ethan looked.</p><p>No smile this time, but something in Luther's eyes loosened Ethan's hands. The man was like water. </p><p>After a moment, Luther shifted a bit in the bed, sitting up. "We both know what we're gonna say, so let's just cut to the end of the argument. Right? You can't stop with the guilt, and I can't stop you, but we both try."</p><p>There was a little silence. Ethan felt he had to say something. "Right."</p><p>"You wanna try something different, instead?"</p><p>"Like what?" Ethan said it cautiously. He didn't know why, or what there was left to be afraid of, only that he was.</p><p>"Come here." </p><p>The bed was large enough for both of them, but something about it seemed wrong. Ethan took off his shoes, feeling clumsy, fingers fumbling at knots, and then climbed in. The plastic railing was uncomfortable, pressed against his left shoulder. There was a faint purplish stain on the ceiling that he didn't want to think too much about.</p><p>"You know," Luther said, "you don't have to touch me if you don't want to, but it would make this easier." Once Ethan's eyes were on his, he added, "You wanna make like it's Istanbul and pretend we're husbands again? Call me Marcus, if that's what you have to do."</p><p>It was ridiculous, how exhausted Ethan could be, and still have his cheeks flush. "It's fine. I'm fine. You don't have to."</p><p>"You think this is pity?" Luther's voice was as level as ever, but there was a note of sadness in it. "I know your instinct is to survive at all costs, and that's mostly suspicion on top of suspicion on top of fast reflexes, but God, Ethan, you know me." </p><p>Ethan's throat felt tight, and he could count his own pulse without pressing finger to artery. </p><p>"It doesn't have to be complicated." They had decades of conversations between them, over things as big as nuclear weapons and as little as bacon sandwiches, so Ethan knew that Luther had something left to say. It was that kind of silence. Took Luther a minute, but finally, he said it and he said it soft: "Can't I just want you?"</p><p>It took a few seconds, but the complicated tangle in Ethan's head went away. There was an honesty to Luther that had always been there and always would be there, and Ethan trusted in that honesty more than anything else in a complicated and dangerous world. He owed his life and more than his life to it. He couldn't go second-guessing it now any more than he could exhale oxygen. And God. God, the pleading in his voice. </p><p>Ethan lifted up the sheets and slid himself awkwardly underneath, still clumsy, still bruised, still careful. But no longer afraid. Luther put out his arm and Ethan rested his head on Luther's shoulder and the warmth of it, oh, the warmth of it.</p><p>"Sorry," Ethan said, half-muffled in Luther's neck. "And. That's the last time I apologize."</p><p>"Really?" Luther sounded a little amused.</p><p>"The last time I apologize, today. Possibly the last time I apologize all week."</p><p>Pure affection: "You shoulda been born a Canadian." </p><p>"I know." Ethan half-smiled. He had closed his eyes, at some point, but he no longer worried about falling asleep. Luther's hand was in his hair, fingertips tracing aimless shapes, almost too much to bear. </p><p>Some time passed, but Ethan had no idea how much, and didn't care, either. Eventually, he heard: "You remember Zurich?" </p><p>"'Course I remember," Ethan mumbled. One of the best days of his life. </p><p>"When they let me out of here, I'm taking you back there. You deserve it. You deserve a lot of things." Luther had a rich, bone-deep voice. Like the safe hiding place in a deep shadow, like earth. Believing him came as naturally as it always did.</p><p>"Okay," Ethan said. "Okay."</p>
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